The Flood
by buganeer
Summary: After an explosion leaves a member of the team fighting for his life, the UnSub that the team was hot on the trail of vanishes into thin air.
1. Chapter 1

_**Author's Note** : This is a multi-chapter story inspired by the song "Tupelo" by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds. All lyrics in italics are from the song, and do not belong to me. Nick Cave has more brilliance in his toenail clippings than I have in my entire being. ;) This is my first story involving an UnSub, and although it begins with a Hotch injury, that isn't the main focus of the story. And now, if it pleases ye...on with the show!_

 _Looka yonder! Looka yonder!  
Looka yonder! A big black cloud come!  
A big black cloud come!  
O comes to Tupelo. Comes to Tupelo  
_

* * *

"Aaron, hold still. Help is on the way."

Help. Aaron closed his eyes against the pain and swallowed hard. He struggled to remember who he was, where he was, what had happened. There was a blast, and fire, and falling, but it was all a blur. Gun shots, screams, darkness. So much darkness. He grimaced as a wave of pain washed over him.

"What…what…happened?" he gasped, struggling to open his eyes. His lashes felt wet and sticky, instinctively he knew it was blood. He tried to lift his arm to wipe his eyes, to sit up, but searing pain shot through him and he let it fall back to his side. "Dave?" He was struggling to take breaths, his chest felt like it was caving in and his body was on fire.

"Shhh, Aaron, it's ok. You're going to be ok, just lie still." Aaron could hear the worry in Rossi's voice, but he tried to ignore it. Rossi's hand was on the injured man's chest, resting gently as a mode of comfort, not pressure on a wound. Aaron could tell that much, at least.

"What happened?" he asked again, struggling against the pain and urge to fall into the blackness again. There was so much chaos around him, flashing blue and red lights, people shouting, fires burning. A man came and asked Rossi to wear a mask, and handed him one to put over Aaron's face as well. There was so much smoke.

"We can talk about it later, you need to just relax, Aaron, save your energy. Everything will be ok."

Save your energy, that's what Foyet had said to him years ago, as he stabbed him repeatedly. He remembered that feeling as he lay there, unable to move, and now as he lay on the hot asphalt he tried to take Foyet's advice. Of all the things in the universe that didn't make sense, him taking advice from Foyet fell right at the top of the list, and yet here he was. His limbs felt weak as he tried to move his fingers and toes, just to make sure. He could feel his extremities, that was comforting. They all hurt, but he could feel them. It was something. And then everything went black.

* * *

The team were all sitting in the waiting room, just wanting answers. They hadn't seen exactly what happened, they'd all been scattered around the property, but they had all been there and seen the explosion from different angles. Rossi had been in the ambulance with his friend and was trying to fill everyone in as best he could, but even he had his limits when it came to being calm and collected. He was worried about his friend, and try as he might, he couldn't hide it from the team.

"Dave, they said he'd be ok, right?" Morgan asked in his usual brash tone.

"They said they would do everything they could," Rossi replied, his tone clipped and stern. "They assured me he was in good hands."

"We gotta believe them," Morgan assured them, running his hand over his head nervously. "Can't be out here worrying, we gotta believe he will be ok. In the meantime, what the hell do we do now? Our Unit Chief is out, and I don't see him coming back any time soon, and we got an UnSub out there needing to be caught…"

"Morgan, please," Garcia began, a tear in her eye. She'd been ignoring the buzzing phone in her purse for the last few minutes, but finally pulled it out and fiddled with it numbly.

"No, baby girl, I don't mean to be rude but we can't pretend that he's just gonna be back with us tonight and fine. We got a bad guy to catch and Hotch can't help us. "

"I know, but…" Garcia stammered, but she lost her voice in a stream of tears. She felt everything so deeply. "But Hotch…" was all she could muster before a doctor in green scrubs came through the swinging doors and approached Agent Rossi. Garcia excused herself to the women's room to wash up and see what all the buzzing in her phone was over. She needed a distraction.

Rossi and the surgeon talked quietly for a few minutes as the team watched, trying to read the body language. The doctor was subdued and quiet, and Rossi was slowly nodding his head and trying his best to maintain his composure. It did not look good. Finally, after what seemed like forever, the doctor walked back into the OR and Rossi approached the team solemnly. Garcia returned from the restroom in time to hear the result of the conversation, and she had some news of her own – she'd received a copy of the surveillance footage of the explosion.

"He's alive," Rossi began, and the entire team let out the breath they'd been holding. "He's not out of the woods yet, but he's alive. He has first and second degree burns on his arms and torso, a broken clavicle, collapsed lung and second degree burns on his calves. He's also suffered a severe concussion, and right now they think he's bleeding internally and are trying to figure out where. He's not out of the woods yet…but his heart is beating. It's something. The surgeon said that, considering the trauma, he's in relatively good shape and lucky to be alive."

"He's a fighter," JJ said softly, her arms folded across her chest. She was still wearing her Kevlar vest and she tucked her small fingers inside the straps and held on tight. She thought of Jack, that poor kid who always had to worry about his father and whether he would be coming home to him. He believed his father was a superhero, and maybe he was, but as the saying goes, the bigger they are, the harder they fall. "I need to call Jessica and let her know…" she said quietly to Rossi, who just nodded knowingly. JJ left quietly as she pulled out her phone, trying to keep herself within earshot of the OR but in a quiet enough place to talk.

Morgan turned his back to Rossi for a moment and composed himself quietly. He wasn't an emotional man, but this was almost too much. Hotch, for all their differences, was a good friend and knowing he was in there fighting for his life while the rest of them got away without a scratch was almost more than he could shoulder. Couple that with the fact that the UnSub got away and it was a recipe for a long night of drinking and a morning hangover. Garcia approached him and touched his arm.

"Derek?" she squeaked. He turned to look at her, his brown eyes stormy and darker than usual. She put her hand on his and squeezed. "It's not your fault, you know."

"You _don't_ know that."

"No, I do know that. I watched the surveillance footage – no one saw it coming. The UnSub set the whole building to blow, you guys walked right into his trap. You were never going to catch him tonight."

"But I'm the reason we went in the first place, I should have seen it coming. The profile said he was unpredictable and could change his patter if he felt like we were getting too close, but I thought by treating him like he was predictable…I'm the reason Hotch went…" his voice trailed off, and he could feel his cheeks flushing with anger. Penelope, unusually calm for the situation, shook her head sadly, her ponytail flopping from side to side.

"Derek Morgan, my love, _my light_ …it doesn't make any difference. You all agreed that it was your best shot at stopping another massacre. He was ready for you guys, whoever went in that door would trigger the whole building. If it hadn't been Hotch, it would have been you, or JJ, or Reid…"

Derek shook his head dismissively, unable to hear the voice of reason. "It should have been me."

* * *

 _Distant thunder rumble. Distant thunder rumble  
Rumble hungry like the Beast  
_


	2. Chapter 2

_Ya can say these streets are rivers  
Ya can call these rivers streets  
Ya can tell ya self ya dreaming buddy  
But no sleep runs this deep_

* * *

The house was quiet as Morgan sat, alone on the couch, nursing his third Scotch of the evening. He had been sitting in silence, staring at nothing, for hours. His phone was on the table in front of him, and he was waiting to see it flash, to hear it buzz with good news about Hotch, but so far nothing. He'd tried to sleep, but just found himself tossing and turning, so here he sat. Waiting.

* * *

Garcia wore her favorite apron, her hair pulled back away from her face as she baked her sixth (or was it seventh) batch of cookies. She had a glass of wine beside her, music playing, but her mind was elsewhere. It was all she could do not to burst into tears every time her phone buzzed with a text or email and it wasn't news about Hotch. These cookies, though, she would take them to the hospital in the morning and brighten the days of the staff who were working around the clock to keep her friend here on Earth. If they made it that far…she'd lost count of how many she'd eaten already.

* * *

JJ and Will sat on the couch in silence, watching a movie neither one was terribly interested in. A whole pizza sat in front of them, but they'd hardly touched it. Date night in had been scheduled weeks in advance, but neither of them felt much like it once the kids were asleep. Still, they tried. They held hands and snuggled in close, but neither one could keep their attention on the movie. If you asked JJ what they were watching, she may not even be able to tell you. She could tell you, though, exactly how long ago she'd left the hospital where her friend was fighting for his life.

* * *

"Rossi?" Reid asked, pacing the surgical waiting area like a nervous praying mantis. The older man looked up from the book he was reading and blinked the tired from his eyes. They'd been there more hours than they knew, but neither man could find it in them to leave or to sleep. The rest of the team had gone, and eventually they would have to go too, but just ten more minutes they kept telling themselves.

"Yes?" Rossi replied, yawning.

"How much longer will they be in surgery? Surely they can't go all night?"

"They'll continue until it's safe to stop, kiddo." Rossi replied, but inside wondered the same thing. He'd never heard of surgery lasting into the wee hours of the night, but then, they couldn't just stop halfway through saving someone's life.

After another few agonizing minutes of silence, except for the incessant humming of the fluorescent lights, the OR door flung open and out came the surgeon Rossi had spoken with hours ago. Rossi and Reid stood up anxiously, Reid tucking his hands into his back pockets.

"We've done everything we can for tonight. He's in stable condition, we managed to stop the bleeding. He's on his way to recovery now, and he'll be in the ICU within the hour. No visitors until tomorrow after 8am. Both of you should go home and get some sleep, you can see him tomorrow, but I'll make sure he knows you both waited until you knew he was ok before you left."

"Thank you, doctor," Reid began, furiously swiping at the hot tears running down his cheeks. He was usually the last person to feel emotion, but the immense relief coupled with exhaustion was culminating in a pool of water escaping from his eyes. Rossi patted the younger man on the back reassuringly and nodded to the doctor.

"Thank you, from the bottom of our hearts… _thank you_."

The doctor nodded and turned on his heel, removing his hair cap and lab coat as he walked through the doorway to the doctor's lounge. Rossi and Reid stood stunned in the hallway for a moment, smiled knowingly at each other, and turned to grab their jackets.

"Wanna share a cab, kid?" Rossi asked as they began walking down the long corridor. Reid nodded in agreement, wiping away the last of the tears. "Hey, he's ok. He pulled through, and we can see him in the morning. He won this battle…"

"Let's just hope we win the war." Reid replied solemnly. The UnSub was gone, they had no more leads, and unless they could find something soon they'd have to wait for another blood bath.


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Note: Thanks for all of the follows and kind words! This story has taken me a bit longer to flesh out, I'm trying to stay as true to the characters as I can AND write an UnSub for the first time. :)_

* * *

 _Well Saturday gives what Sunday steals_  
 _And a child is born on his brothers heels_  
 _Come Sunday morn the first-born dead_  
 _In a shoebox tied with a ribbon of red_

When Aaron woke up, he was in a dark, sterile smelling room hooked up to all sorts of machines. His body felt like it was on fire. His mind raced, he didn't understand. He'd never woken in a hospital in so much pain, and he couldn't move. His wrists and ankles were bound to the bed. He called out into the dark room, but no one came. Was he still dreaming? He tried to move again, but every time his skin rubbed against the restraints it sent a shockwave of searing pain through his entire body.

* * *

"Infection? Okay. So when exactly CAN we see him then?" Garcia prodded as the team stood outside of the ICU at St. Sebastian's hospital speaking to a nurse. She looked his chart over and scratched her head a bit.

"It looks like he developed the infection overnight, he's doing alright but he's in quarantine right now it says. It'll be a few days. We can call you."

"I…I….I don't want you to call us! I want you to let us see him _now_ ," Garcia stammered, looking desperately at Morgan, who just sighed and put his arm around her shoulders.

"Come on, babygirl, she said they'd call us."

"But she doesn't _understand_ …we waited all night…we didn't sleep…and now…and now!"

"Garcia, that's enough," Derek squeezed her shoulder and looked down at her sternly. She nodded and sighed. Derek left his card with the nurse and the two of them walked slowly out of the ICU, toward the elevator bank, in silence.

"Derek, something feels…wrong…" Garcia whispered, looking up at her friend as they stepped into the elevator. Morgan nodded in agreement, he'd been feeling that way too, but he couldn't place why.

"I know," he said, pulling her in tight for a hug.

"It feels icky," she muttered, scrunching up her nose. Morgan smiled a little and shook his head.

"That's _exactly_ what I was going to say."

* * *

The round table room was silent as everyone poured over the information they had on the UnSub. They had him, he was right there, but he slipped through their fingers.

"He's going to strike again," JJ said, finally breaking the silence. "He gets off on mass destruction with casualties, he wants to see his work blasted on every new station. He didn't kill anyone, just leveled an old warehouse, hardly newsworthy."

"But what if we're missing something? What if that's only half of it?" Reid asked, perking up a bit as he looked at the photos of the previous explosions. "What if getting on the news is only half of it?"

"What do you mean?" Rossi asked, intrigued. Reid took a deep breath.

"It's just an idea. We profiled that he wants recognition, he feels invisible but also has an overinflated sense of self, right? That's why he tries so hard to be unpredictable. So, getting on the news isn't enough for someone like that because no one knows who HE is. What if the explosion is only the first part of his plan? In 2005, Philip Dowd was sniping people in Illinois but not killing them, he wanted to be a hero by also saving them. What if this UnSub is doing the same thing?"

"A doctor with a God complex, now there's a shocker," JJ muttered dryly.

"Alright, well we came up with Dowd's profile, let's pull it and work with it." Morgan said, looking at Garcia hopefully. "Think you can…?"

"Already done." Garcia said, pulling the profile up on the monitor so the team could read through it.

"I could have just told you guys," Reid said matter-of-factly. "I have…"

"An Eidetic memory. _We know_."

* * *

"Agent Hotchner," came a soft, low voice from the edge of the darkness. He blinked a few times, trying to help his eyes adjust, but he just couldn't.

"Yes." He replied through gritted teeth.

"Where are you at on the pain scale this morning?" The voice, a man's, seemed to come from closer this time. Aaron felt a hand touch his arm and he let out a low, painful growl.

"On a scale of 1 to 10…I need to know, Agent, _hospital policy_ …"

"Ten," Aaron said, his entire body tense as he felt the man's fingers sliding up his arm, fooling with his bandages.

"Good…good…"

"…good?..." he asked meekly, squeezing his eyes shut. Things were coming back to him now. The explosion, the pain, the hospital. It only took him a few minutes before he knew, the hair standing up on the back of his neck – this was the UnSub. It was the piece of the puzzle they had missed. His mind raced back to Philip Dowd; how did they not see it?

"My team…" Aaron started, but the UnSub pressed lightly against the man's broken collar bone and shut him right up.

"Your team has no idea, don't fool yourself. My nurse told them you developed an infection overnight and they can't see you…they left."

"They will find you." The UnSub pressed harder this time, feeling the bones grinding beneath his fingertips. Aaron clenched his jaw and tried not to make a sound. "And when they do…"

"Don't count on it. I'm a hero. I saved your life." The doctor pressed a few buttons on the machine, and Aaron listened to the high-pitched beeping noise as he began to feel hazy and sleepy, his eyes rolling back in his head. "And I'm not done yet."


	4. Chapter 4

_Author's Note: This one isn't long, but we have a ways yet to go here. ;) Thanks for the kind words!_

* * *

 _Black rain come down, Black rain come down_  
 _Tupelo-o-o! Yeah Tupelo!_

"Okay, so let's say this guy is a doctor…" Morgan began, flipping through a stack of crime scene photos. There was so little left of anyone involved in the previous two blasts, and only Hotch was hurt in the third. "What's he get out of killing all these people? 23 dead, no survivors, and entire buildings leveled. He's not exactly painting himself a pretty picture."

Reid furrowed his brow for a moment, perplexed. He stared ahead at the board full of victim's faces, rubble that used to be a school, a bank and an office building. He looked at the areas of town, which seemed scattered and random, but he knew there was something significant about all of them.

"Maybe they were test runs?" JJ interjected, looking around the room. Reid shook his head.

"No, no I don't think they were. He's highly organized. What if he had to set the stage for himself? What if there needed to be casualties before he could come in and be the hero? What if he's creating chaos so that he can restore order? If he saved everyone, we wouldn't understand his greatness…" Reid paused for a moment. "But if he let people die first, then we would know. We would know how much we needed him. Let's say the first two blasts were to create the chaos, they were set to kill and create panic so the locations really don't matter, in fact he'd prefer they were as far out of his real kill zone as possible. The Third one was all for us. Maybe part of his plan, maybe not, but just for us. The next time he does it, it will mean something."

"Okay, but with this type of UnSub, they usually reach out. They usually make themselves known to us in some way after they've saved someone. A letter, an ad in the paper, something. He's done nothing."

"Well, he's not operating on the same playing field as anyone we've seen before. He's taking the hero role to a new level. I think he wants US to figure it out, he's toying with us."

The team pondered this new direction for a moment before Garcia came into the room in a panic.

"I tried calling about Hotch, they said he's still not conscious." She announced, pacing. "What's wrong with him? Why isn't he awake?"

"Garcia, they're doing what they can," Rossi said softly, trying to calm the panicked woman. It didn't help. She had chewed her fingernails down to stubs in her worry, she was an utter wreck. Garcia did not deal well with stress.

"But what's wrong with him? He needs to be…he should be here with us…"

"And he will be, when he's better. These things take time, Penelope, and he's where he needs to be…" Rossi said softly, pausing for a moment. "And _yet_ …guys, do you think…"

"The hospital. Hotch survived the blast. If this guys' looking for a chance to be a hero, Hotch is his first chance. And if he's trying to talk to us...or toy with us...Hotch is..." Reid looked up at Garcia suddenly, interrupted by her panic.

Garcia stopped dead in her tracks, the color draining from her face. She stared at Reid, her eyes welling with tears of horror. "What? What are you… _what_?" she squeaked.

"As you know, we're working on a profile that involves the idea that our UnSub is likely to be a doctor or someone in the medical profession, who would have not only a God complex but also view himself as a hero. He would wreak havoc, and clean up the mess. You pulled our profile on Philip Dowd, but that was small time compared to what we have here…"

"I told you Morgan! I told you something felt _icky_!" Garcia snapped, whipping around and pointing at Morgan. "I told you!" He nodded solemnly.

"Yes you did, babygirl."


	5. Chapter 5

"You think someone at t _his_ hospital could be doing this?" The hospital administrator, who introduced herself as Sharon, asked quietly, closing the conference room door. The team sat around the long table, boxes of employee files running the length of it. The room smelled sterile, like bleach.

"Yes, ma'am," Derek said quietly. "We'd like to start with everyone who has their name in Aaron Hotchner's chart. Physicians, nurses, even volunteers who have been involved in his care."

Sharon looked like a deer in headlights. "That's the thing. You asked for his chart to be audited this morning, and I pulled it up myself to look through it – I show no record of him being in this hospital."

"He was in your OR two nights ago! He was brought here by ambulance, they operated until after midnight! They said he had internal bleeding and now suddenly we can't find him, and there's no record of his care!" Rossi was raising his voice, which was uncharacteristic of him, but his closest friend was now missing right under their noses.

"I'm sorry, agent, I understand your frustration but I don't show any record of our OR being used that night, either. Now, I remember seeing the blast on television and I remember getting a call from our on-call anesthesiologist with a question, but still there's no record of him receiving care here. I had our nurses run a check of all patients on each floor and there were no patients unaccounted for. As far as I can tell, he's not here, nor has he ever been."

"He's not here?!" Rossi asked, getting ready to lay into her, but stopped when he heard Reid clear his throat.

"I can describe the doctor," Reid piped in, standing up. "I can describe every detail of him. Do you have a directory with photos?"

"Yes, of course," the administrator said, popping out into the hallway for a moment and returning with a binder. "This is all on our website, but we keep hard copies for our marketing department to distribute as necessary. This is every physician and mid-level provider we have on staff, and our travelers are even listed in the back. If a provider has privileges at this hospital, they're in here."

Reid took the heavy binder and set it down before pouring through it. Page after page, he flipped through, picture after picture after picture. Finally, he stopped and pointed.

"That's him," he said, with absolute certainty. The administrator looked over his shoulder and looked puzzled.

"Dr. Orenstein has been working with Doctors Without Borders for the last two years," she started, looking down at his photo. "We've been maintaining his work Visa and payroll stipends while he works in Uganda. You must be mistaken."

"Ma'am, I have an eidetic memory, I'm sure it's him. What can you tell us about him?"

"That's a hell of an alibi," Rossi muttered, looking at Reid. "I don't make a habit of questioning your memory, Reid, but we don't know where Hotch is." Reid stared at Rossi perplexed, but caught the older man's gaze which said to cool his jets a little.

"I know, Rossi. It's him. You were there."

"I…I don't know. It looks like him, but I wasn't…"

"Tell us about Dr. Orenstein, please. Is he well liked?" Morgan interjected, cutting both off. He stared hard at Sharon, not blinking.

"Oh, everyone loves him. He's incredibly valuable to our hospital, one of the best surgeons we've got and he's always willing to do anything. He's our Chief of Surgery, and sits on the Board of Directors."

"Thank you, ma'am. We shouldn't take up any more of your time, but if we need you, we will come and find you. And I'm sure I don't need to remind you, but everything said in this room is confidential, we don't need to start a scare in a hospital." Morgan said, excusing her from the room with a polite smile, and she nodded in agreement. Once the door was closed, Morgan looked around the room.

"Well, it's definitely him. Did you see the way she defended him?"

"Odd…" Reid muttered, looking at the doctor's page in the binder. "He's a highly acclaimed, board certified general surgeon. He's got a long list of professional awards, mission trips, he's ex-military, that all fits with his hero ideology."

"So, what's odd, kid?" asked Morgan, raising an eyebrow.

"I can't find a stressor. The world seems to love him, and regard him as a hero already – why is he doing this now?"

Morgan picked up his phone and called Garcia. "Babygirl, it's me, I need you to dig up anything you can on a Pierce Orenstein."

"Your wish is my command," she began, but her heart wasn't in it. She couldn't stop thinking about Hotch.

"He's on an extended trip to Uganda right now, Doctors Without Borders… _oh, oh dear_ …"

"What is it, Garcia? I'm putting you on speaker phone."

Derek set his phone down in the middle of the table and glanced toward the doorway nervously. "Go ahead."

"It looks like a month ago, he was involved in an icky scuffle at the border of Uganda, two small children he suspected of being trafficked by predators…the children were saved, but the captors got away, and the DWB team was put on probation pending an investigation. He's been suspended, they were holding him in jail" she said, quietly. "He wasn't supposed to leave Uganda until the investigation was resolved, but it looks like he flew back about a week ago and it was the hospital that paid for his ticket."

"Why are they investigating him?" Rossi asked, raising an eyebrow.

"The official statement is that they need to clear the whole DWB team of any involvement in the trafficking, which seems absurd, but they probably just have to cover all of their bases since the men suspected of being the captors got away. Those poor babies…oh, what if, what if there's _more_ of them…"

"There's our stressor. A man who spends his whole life being a hero, gives his life to everyone else, and suddenly he's imprisoned overseas while saving someone, under suspicion of being involved in the worst of the worst. Garcia, can you see where he is now?"

"No, he's off the grid. He hasn't done anything since he came back that I can track."

"Thanks, babygirl." Derek hung up the call and looked around the table. He glanced at JJ, who looked positively sick. "JJ, you've been awful quiet…what's going on in there?" he asked, glancing again at the door. She sighed.

"If the hospital paid for his ticket, they're involved. Someone here is involved, and knows where he is and what he's doing. Maybe more than one person."

"I agree. We need to get out of here without them knowing anything. He's definitely our UnSub, but…" Morgan paused, and there was a knock at the door. It was the administrator, her smiling face now sending a small shiver up his spine.

"I'm going to head to lunch, do you need anything before I go?"

"No, thank you, Sharon. We're about done here."

"Oh, really? Did you find what you were looking for?" She looked curious, innocently curious, but she fiddled quietly with the door handle a bit as she waited. Rossi smiled that easy Italian smile that could calm a storm and melt the hardest of hearts and shook his head.

"Nothing. Another dead end, but we appreciate your willingness to help."

"So, you don't think Dr. Orenstein…."

"No, his alibi checks out. I couldn't imagine such a decorated physician, who cares so deeply for humanity, doing such a thing. Could you?"

"No, absolutely not. Thank you, agents. If I see anything show up with your missing agent's name on it, I'll call you."

When she'd gone, the team all exchanged knowing glances and gathered up their things silently. She was involved. She may not have known how deep it went, or what this man was doing, but she was covering for him.


	6. Chapter 6

"Where am I?" Aaron asked, his voice painful and dry and small. His eyes were open but everything was black. "Hello?" He could hear people whispering somewhere in the darkness, cutting through the silence like a knife. He couldn't make out words, but there was a man and a woman. He shut his eyes and tried to focus on the voices, but he was in so much pain that it was hard to stay with them. He was still restrained, and it felt like there was blood around his wrists and ankles where the leather was cutting into him, rubbing at the delicate skin that was trying to form beneath his burns. His breathing was shallow and painful, he knew his ribs were broken and it felt like an elephant was sitting on his chest.

"You're an awful lot of trouble," came a woman's voice out of the darkness. He could hear her heels coming toward him, echoing in the dark room, but couldn't make out any figures. "Your team is worried, but they can't help you."

Aaron swallowed hard, feeling the dryness burn down his throat. He'd not eaten or had water in days, he felt so weak, but he knew he was still hooked up to an IV so they must have been just barely sustaining him.

"What do you want?" he croaked, licking his chapped lips. "Tell my team what you want. They can…they can help you." He tried to keep his voice steady, show no fear, but that was hard when you hurt as bad as he did. He trained his eyes hard on one spot, tried to keep focus. The woman chuckled a little.

"Oh, where's the fun in that?"

Aaron heard another person approach, and he recognized the footsteps as his doctor. "Anything you want…" he repeated, focusing hard against the pain. The doctor was palpating his stomach now, harder than necessary, and Aaron was seeing stars the pain was so great. He tried to breathe through it, not fight against the pain, and he gritted his teeth so hard he thought they might shatter under the pressure.

"I've got what I want for now," the man muttered dreamily, his fingers pushing into the soft between Aaron's broken ribs. "You know, in Uganda, when you're in prison? There are no rules after dark. Did you know that?"

Aaron squeezed his eyes shut.

"I suppose it's like that in most prisons, but I wouldn't know. I don't _belong_ in prison. And you people…you should have had my back. The FBI came, they said they couldn't do anything yet to help me but oh, they were working on it…and they let me sit there. Me! A valuable physician who has saved countless lives, they let me _sit there and rot_."

"You do belong in prison, and that's where you'll be going soon." Aaron said, mustering every ounce of strength and grit he had left in his body. The doctor laughed a deep, dark laugh, and shook his head.

"So much bravado for a man strapped to a table."


End file.
